


Doctor

by Drixel



Series: Rowvember 2019 [4]
Category: Saints Row
Genre: Blood and Injury, Hospitalization, Hospitals, Medical Professionals, Needles, Not Beta Read, Serious Injuries, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-07
Updated: 2019-11-07
Packaged: 2021-01-25 00:28:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21347284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drixel/pseuds/Drixel
Summary: "I can't perform the surgery.""Why the fuck not?""She's my fucking daughter."
Series: Rowvember 2019 [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1533092
Kudos: 4





	Doctor

Johnny swore her breaths were getting shallower.

He would've joked about the pair of them having matching busted knees if he hadn't watched Tony put another two in her back and chest. Tombstone. 20-Gauge shells. Point-blank range.

But she fought through it. Dazed, blurry-eyed and bleeding heavy she pulled the same trick on Tony he'd done. Used the last of her strength to embed the knife in his jugular, the pair of them collapsing. He had to wiggle the chair over and cut himself free, phone in hand the moment he could thrust it into his pocket, jacket pressed to her wounds.

It must've taken Troy five minutes to get there. Every second felt like an hour in it's own right, as he felt her blood coat his fingers and the rise and fall of her chest stuttering with each laboured breath, her skin becoming pallid and clammy. 

Dex and Julius were with him when he finally showed.

It made sense in retrospect. Outside of the four of them, she was the most well known Saint, despite nobody knowing her name. He'd never seen someone take the nickname 'Crazed Mute Motherfucker' and turn it into their fucking identity before. But damn if she didn't make it work. It added height, for someone who barely clocked in at 5"1.

But she was looking smaller than ever now. Cradled to his chest, bleeding out, in the backseat of Troy's car as it swerved in and out of traffic and speed's Lin'd be proud of. 

Lin...

Fucking Lin...

Needed hospital that time too. Anyone would after a Rambo-styled one-man-war with a bullet in their gut. She'd shown up at his door- Well, Eesh's door- and collapsed. He swore he heard a whispered apology before he'd thrown her into the passenger seat. 

Kid's gotta stop getting so injured.

Julius flicked the radio on and M, because Mute Motherfucker took too long to say, fucking giggled weakly, opening one silvery eye to look at him, before closing it again and taking another shuddery breath. Cutting Crew - I Just Died in Your Arms Tonight. Of all the fucking songs...

Julius flicked the radio off.

* * *

Troy swung into the first spot he could find, taking her from his arms and running in, leaving Julius and Dex to help his sorry ass inside.

Johnny had noticed Troy was over protective of her. In fact a lot of people had noticed. Maybe it was because she was a kid. Maybe it was because he had a _thing_ for kids (He hoped not, because the idea of beating Troy to death was not appealing. Not after he'd done so much for him.), or maybe, and this was a popular theory, one he personally had money on, was that _she_ was _his_ kid. Some secret Baby-Mama he never called back raising her alone but still updated him enough that he knew what she looked like or whatever. 

Made sense to him.

He made it in just in time to watch her get strapped to a stretcher and sent down a corridor to who knows where.

He assumed he'd be sent down the same corridor as he too was strapped into a stretcher, the poor receptionist looking scandalised when he dripped <strike>more</strike> blood onto the nice lobby floor.

Because it was his blood on the lobby floor. Yup, just his, no one else's because everything was fine. <strike>She was fine</strike>.

He literally found himself lying next to her, across the hall outside of some operating theatre. Did they seriously have someone who was in danger of bleeding out waiting in a fucking corridor. This had to be malpractice somehow. He was gonna sue, just as soon as he stopped feeling woozy.

A doctor came out of one of the operating theatres, looking at the two stretchers. Johnny was about to start vigorously pointing at her, ready to shout that she needed more help than him when a look of shock washed over the Doctor's face, paling him considerably. The shock faded to horror, then disgust, then disappointment.

"I can't perform the surgery." He said, more to himself than to his assistant just inside the theatre.

"Why the fuck not?"

Doctor _Church_ (?) looked at Johnny, almost startled by his outburst, with the most disappointed and stern glare he'd seen since his own fucking Father had passed, eyes passing over the winged fleur-de-lys on his arm, before directing it at his best friend (?). His unconscious, half-dead, swathed in purple like the Saintly bitch she is, best friend. And Johnny knew.

He just fucking knew.

"She's my fucking daughter."

<strike>Damn, there goes 500 bucks</strike>. "Fucking excuse me?"

Ignoring Johnny, he turned his attention to the other surgeon that had just shown up. Quietly explaining the situation to him it seemed like they were swapping patients. Meaning he have chance to get to know his best friends dad. 

'_Yay_', he thought sarcastically, as she was (finally!) wheeled into the surgery, and anesthetic was injected into his arm, ignoring Doctor Church as he began explaining the procedure, though his thoughts were clearly elsewhere, understandably.

Doc Church muttered something under his breath, mournful and worried the way only a parents could be when their child had fucked up supremely. 

"_Oh Aster Cosmos Church... What have you gotten yourself into..._"

He held onto that sentence as the anesthetic lulled him into the gentle abyss of the unconscious mind. 

_Aster. Cosmos. Church._

He finally had her name. Her full fucking name. Screw the five hundred he just lost cuz he just won it _b i g_.

* * *

He awoke sometime later. Head pounding, mouth cotton dry, and a tight, but not completely uncomfortable pressure on his leg. 

Sitting up, he looked around the room, the gentle beeping of heart monitors just slightly out of key fighting through the cotton wool fuzz in his brain. He snatched up his glasses, bringing the world into focus, and sure enough, there she was, on the opposite side of the room to him.

Heh. Julius must've pulled some strings. There's no way this would've happened otherwise.

She was still deathly pale, but her monitor indicated she was still alive, and he could just make out the gentle rise and fall of her chest under the blankets from the distance he was at.

On the table next to her was a series of get well soon cards, a pile much, much bigger than the two measly cards next to him. Ah well, at least he had chocolate, noticing the bar of Hersheys. A vase of purple and pink flowers that were vaguely star shaped was next to M's card pile. They sent a sweet scent around the room, drawing a word to his thoughts as he hastily dug into the chocolate bar.

"Aster."

**Author's Note:**

> Day 7 of Rowvember. 
> 
> Sorry for missing out Days 4, 5 and 6. I've been feeling unusually tired these past couple days. But I'm gonna try my best and do as much Rowvember as I'm able, and I'm gonna come back to the ones I unfortunately missed out on and add them in later. Thank you for being patient.


End file.
